


Caught Me at a Bad Time

by Kuronrko98



Series: Collective AUs [5]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Prompt Fill, do not copy to another site, superhero au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 21:49:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17989133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuronrko98/pseuds/Kuronrko98
Summary: This is a different universe than the one I'm working with now, so it has no connection with the Sick Supervillain one. I wrote this to fillthis prompt, and it was super fun!





	Caught Me at a Bad Time

**Author's Note:**

> This is a different universe than the one I'm working with now, so it has no connection with the Sick Supervillain one. I wrote this to fill [this prompt](http://gingerly-writing.tumblr.com/post/167709487241/prompt-564), and it was super fun!

This is so far above my paygrade, it isn’t even funny.

 _I haven’t met you before,_ the voice murmurs in the back of my head. _You still have time to turn around, keep it that way._

“What, I leave and you get away?” I peer around another corner, but the halls remain eerily silent, empty. “Is that how that was supposed to go?”

They sigh, the sound oozing through my defenses but giving me no clue as to where they might be. Each of the corridors look the same, lined with locked doors. Every sound I make shoots ahead of me, louder than I expect. Even my instinctive whispers ring out to alert the guards that don’t seem to be there.

 _I’m not going anywhere._ _You should still go back_.

I pause at a T-junction and reach out. This place can’t be that big. They should be somewhere around here, and _I_ should be able to feel them by now.

There’s something at the very edge of my reach to the left, so I continue that way.

“The Collective will be here soon. You should think about turning yourself in.”

_I wish you hadn’t called them._

“Most villains do,” I point out, but something in the way they say that… It’s not threatening at all. I’ve heard villains get explosive, feign regret, laugh at the idea, but never this tired resignation. Defeated before the fight even starts.

Then again, I can’t rule out a trap.

I have a lock on them now, not far away. The weight of their mind suggests they’re stationary, and I’m starting to receive signals of anxiety and the bone-bending weariness their voice alludes to. If I don’t get close enough to find them without such a close link soon, I might have to give up on finding them before the Collective arrives.

The voice grumbles but doesn’t argue further _._

The Creationist, one of the last child-heroes before the age limitations came out.

They were a promising name when I was in the academy, not that much older than them. Good support for the big names, in line to _become_ a big name by the time they turned on the city. The damage was unprecedented, with the heroes taken by surprise and their unique abilities.

I probably should have waited outside.

I have to stop, leaning against the wall. The anxiety zips through my chest, but that’s nothing to this _exhaustion_. My eyes don’t want to stay open, and I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to stay upright if I don’t—

Break the connection.

The weight immediately lifts. The emptiness in the space I was holding them turns my head all around, and I remain propped against the wall with my eyes shut tight. I’ll have to be able to find them without the connection. If I’m fast enough, I might be able to keep them from using their abilities when I get there.

Finding them turns out not to be a problem with the jumble of noise drifting from up ahead. I missed it under the oppressive weight of their emotions. At the next fork in the road, I find a door propped open not far down the right hall with flickering lights flashing through the crack. The mix of sound intensifies as I get closer.

I don’t really pick anything out until I’m reaching for the door handle.

“—why Empath will be the next hero to go dark side.”

I flinch, my hand pulling back fast enough to hit my chest.

I don’t know how many voices, all streaming together and drifting in and out of focus. Most of it sounds like nonsense, but every once in a while it doesn’t.

“—new sides to these abilities—”

“—his _face_ when he took on the twins—”

“—never seen a skilled manipulator remain a—”

“—not saying he’s _going to_ , but—”

“The dude takes on villains’ emotions on the daily, you can’t tell me it’s not gonna stick eventually.”

The sound cuts out and the lights freeze into a single white glow.

 _You can come in._ It’s the same voice. Soft, tired, not unkind.

When I pull the door open, I find an unexpected scene.

The light falls from a bank of monitors, sucking the color out of everything it touches. Each monitor holds a different paused video, and from what I heard it’s pretty likely that they’re all about me and the work I’ve done. A chair lies on its side in the middle of the room, half-blocking a still figure on the floor.

I step in, not stopping when the door snaps shut behind me. The chair clatters when I kick it away so I can kneel at the side of—

Glassy eyes point at me from a face I see everyday. In wanted posters.

The Creationist.

 _I’m not surprised someone they all call Empath would be so quick to want to help._ The corners of their lips twitch up, but the only other sign that they’re even alive is the slight rise and fall of their chest. _I wouldn’t need it if you’d come by tomorrow._

“What happened here? An accident? Attack?”

 _This is normal._ They puff a hard breath through their nose, but their eyes slip half shut in the same movement. _Most of the time I make it to the bed, but no one’s perfect._

I look up to see a low-set bed tucked into the corner, a comforter trailing down onto the floor. Another sweep of the room tells me this room is heavily lived in. Faded posters hang from the walls, several shelves full of odds and ends, all of it too washed out for me to really see any detail.

_How long before the Collective gets here?_

“It’ll take them a while to get enough people together. Maybe another couple hours.” I shoot another glance at the bed. “That can’t be comfortable.”

_Oh, no, I love concrete floors._

“Now I know I’m right not to be too worried,” I mutter, and they scoff. “Do you want my help or not?”

They’re silent for a moment.

_Please._

The word is soft enough that I almost miss it cracking. I puzzle over the mechanics of a thought cracking, but I don’t hesitate before sliding my arms beneath them to lift them from the ground. They’re limp, a dead weight in my arms, though that hardly makes a difference.

They’re practically a skeleton wrapped in sweats and a sweater.

“Do you even eat back here?” I blurt, rising from the floor.

_I doubt food will be my biggest problem in a few hours._

Their head lolls the other way when I deposit them on the mattress, but their sigh releases tension I didn’t realize I was carrying. A briar of hair hides their face, and I think I’ll leave it that way unless they ask me not to. I shift uncomfortably before going back to drag the chair over.

They murmur a thank you as I’m taking a seat.

“So, uh.” I watch them, trying not to think about the fact that I’m in the bedroom of the Collective’s most wanted. “How long does this usually last?”

_I should be able to move again before the cavalry gets here, but I’ll be a useless mess until I can get a good sleep._

“What happened?”

Anything to keep them talking. Monologuing, I think, is what Jay called it.

_Burnout. It happens, I’m sure you get it, too._

“ _This_ is a burnout for you?”

They chuckle.

_I’ve never been good at moderation._

I hope they’ll go on, but they don’t. They fall silent and the buzzing of the monitors and their faint breathing are the only things keeping the unnatural silence from creeping into the room.

I pick at the seams on my gloves, wishing _someone_ would get here.

_When did you realize you could use your powers to control people?_

The way they ask, it sounds like the hushed whisper of a slumber party. Like they couldn’t destroy me if they were at their best. Like I’m not a mediocre hero next to a villain like them. Like we’re friends.

I look back to the monitors, one of the screens bearing the words ‘Villain Watch.’

I sigh.

“Two months ago. We thought we were done for, then I broke through something in the guy’s head. The authorities had him in cuffs before I lost hold of him, but the blowback…”

 _You must have been half dead. Did they give you time to rest? How long did they wait before training you on it?_ They pause for an instant. _How long did they keep you off the streets afterward?_

I can’t answer. They know how the Collective works, the protocol for new abilities and the paperwork to clear their use. When the silence stretches on, they continue.

_There’s a thin line between acceptable powers and the ones that scare people._

For goodness sake.

“There’s a difference between making someone turn themselves in and tearing half the city apart.”

They visibly flinch, and the voice in my head hisses.

_Is that what they’re telling everyone?_

“If you’ve got another side to that story, I’d love to hear it.”

They don’t answer immediately.

I wait longer than I likely should. When I check my watch, I find several messages from Jay.

**Someone said you found Sawyer.**

**The Creationist. Whatever.**

**Where are you?**

**Jesus Christ, Connor, if you get yourself killed I’ll bring you back just to kill you myself. You know I have the means.**

**You have five minutes before I come get you.**

Yikes.

Timestamped ten minutes ago. That gives me maybe half an hour before they get here. I send them a placating message anyway, though I know it won’t stop them from chasing me down.

“You know what really hurts?”

I jerk up to stare at the owner of the strained voice, barely above a whisper. They don’t move otherwise.

“What?” I ask when they don’t go on.

_When they look at you, but they don’t see you anymore. The other heroes, sure, but just look at the civilians. They get that look, you know, when they know you’re capable of worse things._

My watch flashes, but I don’t look away from the still villain on the bed.

_You’re at that stage now, aren’t you? I know how that feels, obviously._

“If you’re trying to convert me, or whatever—”

“God, no, shut _up_ ,” they groan. _You_ obviously _weren’t registered when everything happened, and I guess there haven’t been any internal turncoats since then?_

I avert my eyes.

“No one makes a scene anymore.”

 _I’m guessing they have a bigger price on their head than your everyday supervillain. How many betrayals have you actually_  seen?

“But—”

_Image is important to your bosses. Civilian’s opinions matter. To them, there’s not a lot of difference between being seen as a god, and as a monster._

“Connor!”

I shoot to my feet and face the door, but Jay has to be a ways away. The echo blends with another shout, and I grimace. There goes that conversation.

_Holy shit, is that Jay?_

I look back to see them struggling to turn their head. I stoop to their side and help them on their way. I doubt they have much energy to spare.

“Yeah. They do this when I don’t answer their texts.”

This time, their smile seems to take less effort.

_That sounds like them. They’re the reason I wanted to be a hero, what a fucking enby icon._

The door slams open, and I resign myself to facing their wrath.

But when I turn, they aren’t even looking at me. Gaping, staring, down at the bed.

I shift, taking on a defensive stance without thinking, and they finally acknowledge that I’m here. They don’t say a word before letting their gaze slide back to the fragile figure on the bed and starting forward. I try to block their way, but I think they know I could never raise a hand against them because they duck under my arm to drop next to the bed.

I mean.

At least I don’t have to defend a villain from my best friend.

“You idiot,” they mutter, pressing a hand to The Creationist’s forehead. “We’ll be having a lot of words, so many words.”

_Tell them they’re a mother hen and I can handle The Collective._

I hover behind Jay, irked that they’re blocking my glare from reaching its recipient.

“You’re a _liar_ and you aren’t having a conversation through me,” I say instead. You know, out loud, where everyone involved can hear me.

Jay looks back to me with a tiny bottle of bright blue liquid in their hand. That’s literally an airplane liquor bottle full of whatever shit they decided to put in it. After a beat, they flash a grin.

That’s not a face they ever make, so it’s a little jarring.

“I’ll deal with _you_ later. How about you find us the most expensive hotel in the district? They’ll never expect them to hide there.”

We’re gonna harbor The Collective’s most wanted. Okay.

Okay.

I guess that’s a thing we’re doing now.

**Author's Note:**

> Sawyer, having been slowly recovering on the floor for about an hour beforehand: Ah, shit someone found me. Better find all these videos about him on youtube so I can be a dramatic little shit and make myself feel worse for a few more hours!


End file.
